In the days following Theomir’s visit, it was like a complete change came over Legolas. His appetite returned, and his bouts of self-pity and depression lessened. That was not to say he was once again the same carefree elf he was before his accident; for there were just too many things to keep Legolas from pretending nothing ever happened.

For one thing, he still could not walk on his own. But unlike before, Legolas was now fully committed to his own recovery. It now seemed as though nothing short of Death itself was going to keep him from overcoming his disabilities. During his exercises, he would push himself almost to the point of collapse, and then be so tired after his sessions with Elrohir and Elladan that he would almost immediately fall into an exhausted sleep for several hours. He tried to eat whatever he could to help regain his strength, but he still remained painfully thin and weak. His rehabilitation continued to progress slowly, but steadily.

One of the hardest things Legolas had to adjust to was the five year gap that now separated him from everything he once knew and everything that now was. It was usually during conversations with Gimli or another one of his friends that something was said that would suddenly remind him of how much he had missed during his five years in a coma: a mention of a person in the palace or city who he had never met before, but who his friends seemed to have known now for several years; a light-hearted memory of some old prank one of the twin had pulled at the Summer Festival two years ago; news from the Hobbits in the Shire; marriages, births, deaths… All of it made Legolas feel as if something had been stolen from him. As if he had missed out on a very essential part of not only his own life, but also the lives of all his friends.

It was usually soon after one of these moments that Legolas would find himself falling into another depression that would last somewhere between several hours or several days until something managed to pull him out of it again. None of them were ever as severe as the first one that claimed him, but they were noticeable to those near to him.

It was not really his own lost years he mourned for during these bouts of depression; for he was immortal and the span of five years was nothing more than a drop of water in an ocean of time to him. No, to him five years was nothing. But in the lives of his mortal friends, five years was a very long time. And he was always somehow reminded of those precious years lost. Whether it be a single grey strand of hair streaking Gimli’s beard, or several hair-fine wrinkles creasing the corners of Aragorn’s mouth which he knew he had never seen before his accident, Legolas was always reminded of how much time he had lost with them.

How many more stories could he have shared with Aragorn in that time? How many more jokes could he and Gimli have exchanged? Those had always been simple things he had taken for granted before his accident, but what he now saw as cherished moments worth more than all the riches of Middle-earth. It was like he could actually feel the passage of time slipping around him now like sand through an hourglass, slowly counting down the days until the enviable touch of mortality would finally steal those dear to him away.

He tried not to think such morbid thoughts when he knew so many years still lay ahead of him and all his friends, but Legolas still could not help feel as if some irreplaceable part of his like had been brutally stolen from him.

But the tragedy of his loss was nothing in comparison to the horror of his gain. For it seemed as if in compensation of his injuries, Fate had decided to bestow him with a terrible gift. A gift he did not want, and a destiny he still did not know he had to fulfill.

******

"You cheated!"

"I did not! Just because you were too preoccupied planning your own move and didn’t have any foresight to look ahead and see what my next move might be, do not accuse me of any foul play."

Gimli scowled, and stared down at the chessboard sitting between himself and Legolas as if the pieces themselves were to blame for his defeat to the elven prince. "Foresight my axe…" he grumbled under his breath as his eyes swept over the board one last time, as if trying to see if he had missed something that would somehow invalidate the elf’s win. But he could find nothing, and his king remained undeniably captured by Legolas’ white knight.

"Bah!" he finally grunted as he threw his hands up in defeat and leaned back in his chair, "I don‘t know how, but I still say you cheated. You probably used those powers of yours to somehow see what my next move would be, and knew everything I was going to do before I even did it."

"I did not!" Legolas cried, feigning a look of affronted pride, "I would never cheat. Besides…" he added with a sly grin, "I don’t need to cheat against you. Like I’ve said numerous times in the past and just proven once again: a dwarf can never outsmart an elf in a game of strategy and wit." Gimli glared at Legolas, earning himself another smug grin from the elf.

"Game of wit, eh?" he grunted. "Well, it may not be for a dwarf to waste his time always "strategizing" which piece should go on which square next like some elves he knows instead of just taking his turn, but it certainly does not take much wit for such a dwarf to put one gloating, overconfident elf back into his place with one quick chop of the axe…"

"Ah! Now see, that’s your problem, Gimli," Legolas sighed as if in exasperation, "Always too rash to use that brain of yours the Valar actually deemed fit to gift you with. You know, it’s that dwarfish impatience of yours that always loses you your games."

"Just keep it up, elf…" Gimli growled threateningly, "Or otherwise after I’m done with you, not even Elrond will be able to put you back together again."

"Is that a threat, Master Dwarf?" Legolas inquired, cocking an eyebrow at the dwarf mockingly.

Gimli harrumphed loudly. "Don’t think that just because you’re a little incapacitated right now that I won’t give you what’s coming to you."

The smile that had been gracing Legolas’ face up until that point slowly slipped from his face. "Incapacitated?" he repeated softly. The sound of the elf’s spirits dropping like a sack of bricks was almost audible to the dwarf sitting across from him. Trying to keep his voice light, Legolas forced a wan smile and said, "Just give me a couple months… and then we’ll see who puts who into his proper place."

Gimli immediately saw his error and mentally kicked himself. He knew he had just crossed the fine line of their friendly banter and truly struck a nerve with his friend. He wanted to kick himself for his stupidity. Legolas was still highly sensitive about his inability to move and walk around on his own. "Oh, Legolas… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…"

"No. No, it’s alright," Legolas assured, quickly waving off Gimli’s comment as though nothing was wrong even though it was painfully obvious the dwarf’s words had hurt him deep.

Despite Legolas’ assurances, Gimli felt absolutely terrible. He was about to try and apologize again for his careless words, but before he could, Legolas abruptly turned his face away from him and focused his attention on the palace gardens that lay sprawled out beneath the third floor balcony they sat on.

Since Gondor was currently enjoying a particularly rare Indian Summer and the weather was still so nice even though it was nearing the end of October, the two had decided to sit out on the balcony of Legolas’ room for awhile and play a game of chess. A dark green blanket lay draped over Legolas’ legs and lap. In spite of the weather still being warm despite the late season, the elf seemed to have lost some of his elven endurance for cold during the long years of his coma and needed something extra to prevent him from taking a chill. It nevertheless was a small concession for him to accept for Elrond and the twins to let him out of the balcony to enjoy weather. And it had been a perfect afternoon all the way up until now.

"Legolas, I really am sorry…"

The elven prince looked back at him. "Gimli, I said it was alright," he said sharply, immediately halting any more apologizes the dwarf might have tried to make. An uncomfortable silence formed between the two as Legolas once again turned his attention back onto the fall-goldened trees in the garden below.

Gimli heaved a frustrated sigh. Great. He just touched off another one of Legolas’ moods. He hated seeing his friend like this, but there was little he could do. Almost anything set Legolas off. He could hardly say anything without somehow causing a disheartened look to spread across the elf’s face. It was frustrating and he knew it would be a long time before Legolas returned to his old self - if ever… But he refused to give up on his friend. He had spent too many years mourning his missing friend while the elf had slept in his coma for Gimli to just abandon him now. He wasn’t going to give up on Legolas. He was going to help him through this. He wasn’t going to leave him again like he had all those years ago…

"So how’s your physical therapy coming?" he asked, hoping to somehow redirect the elf’s attention. "From what I’ve heard from the twins, you’ve been making a lot of progress," he added enthusiastically.

Legolas looked back up at him. "I’m starting to be able to put more weight on my legs, but I still can’t really stand or walk on my own," he answered softly, "My left leg is still bad. Elrond looked at it and said I will probably have a limp for awhile after I get back on my feet. Maybe even permanently, he doesn’t know… The muscles have deteriorated too much to know if I’ll be able to make a full recovery. But that’s still too far in the future to worry about right now… Right now, I just want to be able to walk on my own without the assistance of someone else there to hold me up."

Gimli frowned slightly. He didn’t like that note of despair tainting the elf’s voice. "Come on, elf," he said, "I bet anything you’ll be back on your feet and walking around before you even know it. In fact…" he smirked, trailing off enigmatically as he stood from his chair, "I have a gift for you…"

With no other words spoken, Gimli turned and walked through the open doors that led back into Legolas’ room. Piqued with curiosity, Legolas stared after the retreating dwarf‘s back. After a few minutes, the dwarf finally returned, carrying a long, narrow bundle that was almost as long as he was tall. He sat back down in his seat, offering Legolas no explanation when the elf looked at him inquisitively. A sly smirk spread across the dwarf’s face as he slid the chessboard they had been using aside on the table and laid the wrapped package down in front of Legolas.

"Go on. Open it," he directed, leaning back in his chair with a wide grin.

"What is it?" Legolas inquired, eyeing the package suspiciously.

Gimli made a feigned look of annoyance at the elf. "You’re just going to have to open it to find out, now aren‘t you?" he said, shrugging his shoulders. Legolas actually did his friend the favor of throwing the dwarf a half-hearted scowl. Gimli smiled wider. "You better hurry up and open it, elf, or I might just decide to take it back," he threatened.

The elven prince shot Gimli one last inquisitive glance before finally looking down at the mysterious bundle in front of him. He slowly reached out and began to untie the cords that held the dark blue cloth wrapped around Gimli’s present in place. As he pulled the final tie away and lifted back the fold of cloth, Legolas’ eyebrows knotted together in surprise.

"A cane?" he said, lifting a long, black walking stick out of it’s wrapping. He looked up at Gimli inquiringly.

"I thought you might be able to use it to help you get back up on your feet," Gimli explained. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he watched Legolas curiously begin to inspect his gift.

"It’s beautiful," the elf said as his eyes slowly scanned the present. And it was. The cane was over three feet long and made of finely polished ebony. But that was not what truly caught Legolas’ eye. For topping the cane was a silver metal ball that served as its head; its surface was carved in the delicate design of twisting leaves and vines. The design was so detailed and precise that Legolas almost believed the crafted foliage real. He slowly ran his hand along the smooth shaft of the cane and gently fingered the silver handle.

As he did so, he felt a small twinge in the back of his mind. His eyes grew distant. And like a sudden spark of knowledge, he knew.

"You made this for me yourself, didn’t you?" It was not a question more than it was a statement of fact.

Gimli nodded proudly.

Legolas looked speechless. "Oh, Gimli… Thank you. I don’t really know what to say…" he stuttered as he looked down at his gift with wondrous eyes, greatly touched by the dwarf‘s gesture of friendship.

"Just say that you’ll stop moping around and use this to help you get back to normal."

"Normal?" Legolas laughed incredulously, looking up at his friend, "After everything that’s happened, I hardly think normal is an option for me anymore…" He looked back down at his new cane and began to turn it over in his hands, admiring its craftsmanship. "And for your information…" he added as he set its end on the ground beside his chair and tapped it several times as if testing it out, "Elves do not mope…"

Gimli smiled. This was more like the old Legolas he knew… But the first thing the elf said still bothered him, and his smile slowly slipped from his face.

"You still having visions?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He had seen the way Legolas’ eyes had become unfocused and distant after first picking up the cane and then inquiring who its maker was, as if he had actually known it was him all along.

Legolas slowly laid his cane across his lap and looked up with a sigh. "Yes," he said simply, disarmed into honesty by his friend’s calm, unjudging tone. He had come to trust Gimli as the only person he could really talk to about his strange and unknown powers.

"Ai, Gimli… If you only knew what it’s like," Legolas moaned as he subconsciously rose a hand to the left side of his head and gently touched the raised section of scar tissue laying there beneath a patch of downy white hair. "It’s like flashes in my mind - images of things I can’t explain seeing. When I touched you that first time and saw the accident in the Glittering Caves, it was like I was actually there. I swear I could actually see and feel everything that was going on around me. I haven’t had any visions as powerful as that first one since, but I’m afraid of such a thing happening again. I’m afraid of what I might see…"

"At first I thought I could only sense things from people, but it’s like everything I touch can potentially cause a vision or give me some kind of sensation. A person, a book, a cup, this cane-" he said, lifting the walking stick in his lap up for emphasis, "-It doesn’t matter. I see things. I see them in my head. Sometimes it’s like I’ll touch something and then just know. Whether it be something in the past or something several moments in the future, I just know."

"Have you tried controlling these visions?" Gimli asked curiously.

"I have, but I can’t," the elf sighed, shaking his head tiredly, "They come sporadically with seemingly no real reason or purpose. I’m starting to get used to them, but it’s still all so strange. I can’t control my visions, but I’ve actually starting to learn how to manage them so that they are not just a barrage of random images, but more like watching a specific moment of time play out in my head."

Legolas sighed deeply then and turned his head to look out over the gardens again. "Gimli, I’m so confused…" he whispered softly under his breath, "I don’t understand these powers. I don’t know why I have them. It just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t understand why the Valar cursed me with these powers after everything I‘ve lost because of that accident five years ago. I know I may sound childish and whiny, but I can‘t help feel as if I‘m being punished for something."

"Perhaps they gave you these powers because they have some greater purpose planned for you…" Gimli knew how empty a consolation that had to sound to someone who had suffered so much, but it was the only thing he could think of to say to give any sort of reason or purpose to the horrible accident that stole his friend from him so many years ago and then returned to him, now changed and possessed with strange, frightening powers.

Legolas snorted. "Funny… I never would have never pegged you as being the philosophical type…" Gimli saw a wan smile pull at the corner of Legolas’ lips at the playful jab, but it quickly faded away as Legolas became serious once again. "Gimli, I don’t understand these powers. I’m so tired of these visions. I’m so tired of people looking at me as if I’ll attack them if they get too close. You should have seen Eowyn the other day when she and Faramir brought Theomir to see me. It was like she was afraid I’d actually hurt her if she stayed any longer…"

"Yes, I heard about the incident with the missing necklace from Aragorn. Apparently the Lady Eowyn was very distraught over you finding it the way you did, and told Lady Arwen all about it," Gimli nodded thoughtfully.

"You see!" Legolas cried, "Even my friends think me a freak of nature!"

"They do not," the dwarf reprimanded sternly, "Don’t you ever think that. They care for you and want to see you get better. It’s just that they’re still a little unsure about your new… abilities…"

"But you do not see the look in their eyes… the fear," Legolas whispered bitterly, "They are afraid of me. I can tell. Or if they don’t shy away from me in fear, they look at me as if I’m crazy."

Gimli’s expression softened at the sound of bitterness lacing the elf’s voice. "Well, I’m your friend," he said softly, "And I’m not afraid of you or think you’re crazy. Shouldn’t that count for something?"

Legolas slowly raised his eyes and looked into Gimli’s. He stared into the dwarf’s dark brown eyes for several long heartbeats of silence, his eyes unsure and imploring the truth of Gimli’s words. But he saw no trace of deception or untruth in his friend’s eyes, only honesty and love.

With a timid smile, Legolas broke eye contact and looked back down at the cane laying across his lap. "Thank you, Gimli," he said softly, "I sometimes forget how much the opinion of a dwarf is really worth." He slowly looked back up at his friend. "I don’t know what I would have done if it wasn’t for you standing by me through all of this," he then added in a quiet voice.

Gimli tried to hide the small blush that rushed to his ruddy cheeks at such a heart-felt confession, and turned his face to the side. "Aww… There you go getting all sentimental on me again," he gruffed in the toughest voice he could manage, "It’s just like an elf to get all teary-eyed over something that’s only meant as an encouragement, and make something more out of it than it really is."

Legolas smiled fondly at his friend. "Maybe so, Master Dwarf, but at least an elf known how to show his emotions instead of hiding them behind a façade of stone like most dwarves."

"It’s worked well for us so far, and I don’t intend on being the first dwarf to change my ways now," Gimli coughed, still feigning emotional indifference.

"Pity…" the elf sniffed in disappointment, "I had hoped that after so many years even without my guidance someone would have taught you the value of expressing your feelings."

"Humph," the dwarf snorted. "Well, I guess that just means you have your work cut out for you to teach me these values you speak of…"

Legolas smiled deeper. "I suppose I do then. For I have had the misfortune of experiencing the renowned stubbornness of dwarves first-hand on numerous occasions already."

Gimli said nothing in reply, but let a satisfied grin spread across his bearded face. Yes, it would take some time for Legolas to get used to these new power he had, but there was hope for the elf. And he was determined to see it done.

The two were about ready to reset the board for another game of chess so that Gimli may try and regain his pride from his previous defeat, but before they could an unexpected visitor stepped out onto the balcony from Legolas’ room.

"Aragorn," Legolas called out as he looked back over his shoulder and saw his friend standing there in the doorway, "Come join us. We were just about to have another game of chess. Maybe with you here to oversee the match, there won’t be any way for Gimli to dispute my win when I beat him again."

"We’ll see about that, elf," the dwarf grumbled under his breath as he began resetting his pieces into place on his side of the board.

"I would," the man replied, noticeably shifting his weight from one foot to the other almost nervously, "But I was actually wondering if I might have a moment alone to speak with you, Legolas."

The dwarf and elf both looked up at Aragorn. There was something in their friend’s voice that immediately told them something was wrong and troubling Aragorn. Legolas glanced over at the dwarf. "Would you excuse us for a minute, Gimli?"

"Of course. I’ll be inside waiting," he said as he got up from his chair and walked back towards the open door to Legolas’ room. As he walked past Aragorn, the dwarf cast a concerned glance up at the man’s face before moving past and into Legolas’ room.

As Gimli disappeared from sight, Legolas looked back up at Aragorn who was still standing uncertainly in the doorway. "Come, Aragorn. Sit down," he directed, motioning to the seat Gimli had just vacated.

The man nodded wordlessly and strode forward to take the proffered seat across from Legolas on the other side of the small table that had been set out on the balcony for the elf and dwarf’s use. For a long moment of uncomfortable silence, the man and elf just sat there, quietly staring at each other. It was obvious Aragorn had something very important he had to say, but could not seem to find the words to say it.

Finally he spoke. "That’s a beautiful cane," he said, looking down at the object in the elf’s lap, "Who gave it to you?"

"Gimli did," the elf answered, looking once again down at the dwarf’s gift, "He made it for me himself."

"Ah, yes. I remember Gimli saying he was working on something special for you, but refused to tell any of us what it was," Aragorn nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes, it was a very thoughtful gift," Legolas agreed, "It should prove very useful once I get back on my feet." Despite his pride of his new cane, Legolas knew Aragorn had not come to talk to him about the dwarf’s gift. There was something troubling Aragorn; he could see it in his eyes. "So what was it you wished to speak to me about?" he asked as he set his cane aside and propped it against the balcony railing.

The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat and subconsciously dropped his eyes to the ground, as if unable to look into the elf’s eyes. This only worried Legolas more about his friend’s odd behavior. "What is it, Aragorn?" he pressed worriedly, "What’s wrong?" He had never seen the man act like this before and it was honestly starting to worry him.

Aragorn took a deep breath as if trying to muster the courage to speak. He continued to stare down at the ground as if it was the only thing he could do to keep the tears that were slowly starting to form in his eyes from falling. The elf sat in shock, unable to understand what was causing his friend so much distress. "Aragorn-"

"I’m sorry," the man finally blurted out, "I am so sorry. I never meant to do it…"

"Do what?" the elven prince demanded in confusion.

"Leave you," Aragorn replied, slowly raising watery eyes up to finally look at the elf. "I had to apologize and confess for what I did. After your accident, I believed you were going to regain consciousness at any time. So I stayed with you to be there when you woke up. But after a couple months, I started to lose hope of ever seeing you awake again and stopped going to see you. I couldn’t make myself sit there and see you like that and know there was nothing I could do for you. Then after the first couple years, I started to almost make myself believe you were never going to wake up again so that I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about not staying there with you like a truer friend would have done. I left you and tried to forget that you still lived. You lay here in this room - in this same building as I! - for almost four years and I came to see you no more than half as many times. I am a terrible friend and beg you for your forgiveness…"

Legolas sat speechless, unable to find the words to answer such an unforeseen and heart-wrenching confession like the one he just heard. "Aragorn…" he stammered," Why did you only come to talk to me about this now? Why not before?"

Aragorn turned his face away in shame. "Because each day I see you looking more and more like the friend I abandoned all those years ago. Because you are no longer some lifeless body I can fool myself into thinking is not the person I’ve known and loved as my friend and brother for half my life."

"Aragorn," Legolas said softly as he leaned across the table and lightly touched his friend’s arm. "I was in a coma for five years. Five years! I cannot fault you for giving up hope after such a time. I know I would have too. It would be foolish and selfish of me to have expected you to have stayed by my bedside for so many years." He could see he was starting to reach his friend, for the man timidly lifted his head up off his chest a bit to finally look the elf in the eyes. "You had greater responsibilities to see to than just me," Legolas continued, determined to make the man hear his words, "You had a country depending on you for your leadership and guidance. You could have never rightfully abandoned your duty and responsibilities because of me."

Despite the lingering, unshed tears still shining in his eyes, Aragorn stifled a small laugh. "You have no idea how much you just sounded like my father…" he said, shaking his head at the irony of such a thought.

"Then Elrond is an even wiser elf than I ever imagined," Legolas replied. "Besides, if I had woken to find that you had stayed by my side for five years I would have personally cuffed you over the head."

Turning his head to the side, Aragorn tried to hide the unbidden smile that sprang onto his face at the elf’s implied threat of physical violence behind a curtain of dark brown hair. Legolas was almost ready to believe he had finally succeeded in dissuading his friend‘s feelings of guilt, but before he could, the smile that had been gracing the king’s face slowly melted away again into an expression of haunted guilt.

"Perhaps…" he murmured softly to himself, "Perhaps I couldn’t have abandoned my country, but that still doesn’t excuse my neglect of you," he said, looking back up into Legolas’ eyes. "I did not come to see you even when Arwen found time to come, if only to sit by your side and hold your hand. I had lost so much hope of ever seeing you awake again that I tried to convince myself you had really died in that accident and all that lived on was just an empty shell. I gave up hope even when others did not. I failed you as a friend. I abandoned you when you needed me the most. And then after you woke up and had that strange vision of the Glittering Caves, I abandoned you once again by not standing by your side and helping you cope with these new powers you seem to possess. I have not been a good friend and can no longer live with my guilt." Aragorn desperately stared into Legolas’ eyes. "Please…" he begged in a low voice of anguished guilt, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Legolas sat for a long moment of silence pondering the man’s request before finally answering.

"No."

Aragorn looked as if he had just been slapped across the face. "No…?" he repeated numbly, as if unable to comprehend the word.

"No," Legolas repeated firmly, "Because there is nothing to forgive." Aragorn looked at the elven prince in surprise.

"What?" he stammered.

"There is nothing for me to forgive," Legolas repeated. He slowly leaned across the table again and stared into his friend’s eyes deeply. "Aragorn, you had your own life to live instead of hopelessly waiting for me to wake up. You say I needed you while I was in my coma, but I don’t even remember the presence of anyone who did come to sit by me. So how were you needed if I wouldn’t have even remembered you there?" Aragorn looked ready to argue this, but was quickly cut off. "No, Aragorn. I was in a coma for five years, and your presence by my side wouldn’t have changed anything. What I do need though is you by me now. I need my friends now more than ever before. You have nothing to feel guilty about. But if your conscious still troubles you because of thoughts and false illusions of blame or guilt, then do your penance by standing by me now, even if you do not believe in these powers I have."

Aragorn considered the elf deeply for a long moment. "I believe in you, Legolas," he said softly after a time, "Even if I cannot understand these powers of second-sight, I will not leave you to face them alone. I won’t abandon you again."

"Then we have come to an understanding," Legolas said, smiling gently at his friend, "And there is nothing for you to feel guilty about any more."

Aragorn seemed to finally accept this and nodded gratefully to the blond haired elf. It suddenly felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in many days, he finally felt free and at peace with himself and the world.

Legolas could almost see the visible weight of guilt lift from over his friend like a heavy mist. "Well," the elf then exclaimed happily, clapping his hands together as a sign of closure on the matter, "Now that that’s out of the way, what say you we call our neglected friend back. I still have to beat him again and prove once and for all that a dwarf can never out win an elf."

Aragorn laughed heartily at this, feeling for the first time since Legolas’ awakening that he truly had his old friend back: the same stubborn elf that even when going through possibly the most difficult and depressing time of his life, he refused to let any of his friends feel guilty or the least bit disheartened by his own condition. This truly was the Legolas he remembered.

"I’ll go get Gimli then," Aragorn said, standing up from his seat with a wide grin now brightening his once guilt-ridden face.

Legolas looked up at his friend. "I assume you’ll stay and join us?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course," the man smiled, "Who else but the king of Gondor would be brave or foolish enough to dare mediate a chess match between a dwarf and elf when the stakes are so high? I do not want to see a fight break out between you two just when you are starting to make such progress with your physical therapy."

"What are you talking about?" Legolas cried as if in insult, "If such a brawl ever broke out, it wouldn’t be me taking the abuse, but Gimli who would be in need of the twin’s help to learn how to walk again!"

Aragorn shook his head, chucking under his breath. "You know, it’s things like this that make me sometimes wonder how you two haven’t killed each other yet," he laughed as he stepped around the small table standing between him and Legolas back towards the open doors of the balcony. As he came up beside his friend, the man paused and laid a hand on Legolas’ bony shoulder. "Thank you," he softly whispered into the elf’s pointed ear, "You don’t know how good it is to finally have you back…" And with nothing else said, Aragorn then turned and walked back in the direction of Legolas’ room to retrieve their bearded companion.

But Legolas did not hear what Aragon said. He sat stiffly frozen in his seat, blankly staring ahead into the distance as his friend disappeared from sight back into the palace behind him. If Aragorn had waited but a moment longer, he would have seen Legolas’ eyes suddenly darken, as if an ominous storm cloud had passed over them.

Releasing a shuddering breath of air he hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding, Legolas shook himself out of his trance. Breathing hard to keep himself calm, the elf whipped around in his seat and stared in the direct Aragorn had just disappeared, desperately trying to comprehend what he had just seen in a brilliant flash of white in his mind at Aragorn‘s touch. A single silver tear slowly rolled down his cheek in silent horror of what he had just seen.

He had seen Aragorn and a group of other men standing in a circle in the middle of a decrepit, trash-strewn alley located somewhere probably in the lower levels of the city. They stood staring down at something laying on the ground at their feet.

It was a body. The body of a young woman laying face down in the slimy filth of the alley. Her clothes had been violently torn and ripped away from her body. Her skirt lat hitched up over her waist, revealing the cold dead flesh of her legs below. Blood pooled over the ground beneath her head - or what was left of it. He could see no discernable features of a face within the bloody mess that lay twisted to the side under a tangled mess of raven black hair that did little to hide the mutilation of her face.

He could not see the dark outlines of violent fingers imprinted into the soft flesh of her neck, but he knew she had been brutally strangled and raped. And although he tried to push the horribly image of the girl’s cold, desecrated body from his mind, Legolas knew that this was not the first of such murders to have occurred in the white city. Nor was it the last.

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To Be Continued…

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Well, that sub plot I started all the way back in chapter three or something like that is finally starting to come back into play. But more on that later… Well, guess who’s finally going to be arriving next chapter. Any guesses? Yes? No? Well, here’s a few hints: he’s tall, he’s blond, he’s somebody’s father, and he’s going to be in for quite a bit of angst when he finally sees his son who he hasn’t seen awake in over five years. Still no guesses? Aw, what am I going to do with you people?

‘Till next time!